Yes, yes, yes, happy new year and all that. I won't be getting too worked up about this particular arbitrary landmark, since, in these pages at least, we already did a happy new year back in late summer and aren't due another one until the middle of 2010. We work on a different clock here. This is no time for retrospectives or forecasting. That was August's work. In December, football plays through.

And you have to hand it to football; when they don't take a break, they really don't take a break. With each round of games staggered across two or three days, rolling seamlessly into the next batch of games, at one point it looked as if Andy Gray and Richard Keys were going to be on the telly this Christmas more often than David Tennant. I'm joking of course; no one has ever been on the telly more than David Tennant was this Christmas. All we need now is rolling news following him to the airport for his flight to LA. A nation mourns.

For some, though, the new year must come as a desperately needed line to draw under a terrible 12 months.

Portsmouth, for example, who had a pretty poor 2009, even by the standards of Tiger Woods, say, or Michael Jackson impersonators. To paraphrase Oscar Wilde, who wrote this column some years before me: to have been "bought" by one shallow-pocketed Arabian businessman is misfortune, but to have been "bought" by two in the same year, well, that's just bloody stupid. And to find yourself selling your entire first team must rank as pretty low on the wishlist of any sports fan.

And still those fans turn up, all but filling Fratton Park and roaring them on. It's quite the most impressive piece of tribal support in the league (apart from Stoke, or maybe Burnley). An interesting stat emerged during the week. The last time Portsmouth were in the Championship their gates were actually higher than they are now.

So why, when I ask around, is there not more empathy generally for the Pompey faithful? Is it that we all have our own troubles, or is it that bloody bell?

As an Arsenal fan, I understand that I can never seriously criticise other supporters for being too loud; after all, the sound of tutting from the Emirates for a misplaced pass can be deafening. But that bell. Well, Jesus wept.

It's the classic parental dilemma of not wanting to discourage the enthusiasm and energy, while at the same time wanting that bloody racket to stop. I applaud John Westwood for his bell-ringing – all clubs should have such passion in the stands. Meanwhile, could someone attempt a terror attack with a bell? Just so that they all get confiscated in future? I'll leave the details to you, but if you can find a way to hijack a plane using a loud "clang, clang" noise, well, you'll be taking one for the team.

As encouragement to Pompey fans, though, and also a demonstration of just how unpredictable this year in the Premier League has been, I offer the following chain of matches. We all should take comfort from it that (a) nothing should be taken for granted this year, and (b) I spent a good chunk of an afternoon over the holidays working this out. I must really love you people.

So far, bottom-placed Portsmouth beat Liverpool, who themselves beat West Ham, who in turn beat Aston Villa, who beat Stoke, who beat Spurs, who beat Man City, who beat Wolves, who beat Fulham, who beat Manchester United, last year's champions.

Of course United beat Everton, and they beat Burnley, who beat Sunderland, who beat Arsenal, who beat Blackburn, who beat Bolton, who beat Birmingham, the surprise form team at the moment.

And just to carry it over the finishing line, Birmingham beat Hull, who beat Wigan, who despite all their travails this year, scored three goals to beat Chelsea, the current league leaders.

So there you go, Pompey. A small glimmer of hope amid news cycle after news cycle of grimness. Let's try to ignore that the chain came full circle with Chelsea's 2-1 win over Portsmouth at Stamford Bridge in December.

And for the rest of us, that long list may be proof that we are actually watching a league that had atrophied into predictability suddenly roar into competitive life. It might yet be one hell of a 2010.

Dara O Briain's book, Tickling the English, is available now, published by Michael Joseph